When You're Gone
by Beekachu
Summary: Daryl has always been an underdog. When the opportunity to be a hero is taken by the younger Dixon boy, will the struggles he faces to get back the one he loves prove worth it? Caryl. (The story will be better than this summary!)
1. Chapter 1

"Rick." I call out, wincing slightly at the harsh echoes that bounce almost endlessly off the walls of the cavernous hallway. The cell block is eerily silent, hold for the heavy clopping of my boots on the dusty concrete floor.

"_Rick!_" I try again, letting a bit of frustration seep into my tone. I didn't have time for any of this hide and seek shit. He'd been avoiding me. That much was obvious. Carol was the reason he was avoiding me. That part was so much _more _obvious.

"_Ri-" _My call is cut short by the man himself. I meet him chest to chest, both of us stumbling back slightly at the shock of such a sudden appearance.

"Daryl," He begins, a bit sheepishly, "sorry. I was working on the generator."

I nod once, cutting off his stories. "Hershel said you needed to talk to me." I state bluntly, crossing my arms over my chest to regard him properly, yet casually at the same time.

"Right." He agrees, straightening up a bit, situating himself into his more leader-like persona. I've seen him make the switch a million times before. I can't help but arch my eyebrows in slight amusement as his eyes find mine.

"Well?" I prompt, leaning my back casually against the hard, dirty wall, keeping my gaze even with his, matching his intensity and composure.

"Daryl… I'm just gunna have to be blunt. I had to leave Carol behind."

I can feel the breath being pushed out of my lungs as a sudden rush of fear and anger wraps tightly around my insides. "What?" I demand, not suppressing the look of anger that has taken up my demeanor.

"Calm down." He says sharply, only stoking the fire of outrage that's beginning to burn in my gut. "Let me explain."

"Explain then." I demand gruffly, staring him dead in the eye.

His gaze averts from mine as he runs a hand through his thick, greasy hair. "She killed Karen and David, and then burned them. She claimed she was helpin' the group but she just… She _killed _them. They coulda been helped."

"Why?" I ask, not letting the undertone of ire leak from my tone.

"Why… What?" He questions, staring at a place on the wall just past my shoulder.

"What was her reason for killin' 'em?"

"She said they'd infect the rest of the group. Said they were a danger. Maggie agreed I did the right thing."

I stare at him. It was very typical of Rick. The reassurance of the group kept him going. I see where he was coming from with this. She could have been a potential danger to the group but… But this was Carol we were speaking of. The playful, lighthearted, soft-spoken woman who has… Two girls now. Two girls she was supposed to take care of.

"What about Mika and Lizzie?" I question, the anger slowly seeping from my voice to make way for a hollow emptiness.

"Hershel'll take care of 'em, I'm sure." He says, a tinge of relief taking over his originally tense disposition.

"… We can't leave her like that Rick. It's killin' her." I state bluntly, staring him in the eyes again.

"She's a strong woman. She'll be fine." He says nonchalantly, though a bit of guilt takes up residence in his all-telling blue eyes.

"She was family Rick. She was like a gotdamn _sister _to you. We've all killed people for this group… _In _this group. Even you. You ain't no saint. Whose to say you ain't a danger to this group… Or I ain't?" I question, letting the kindling of anger reignite in my gut. It was a feeling all too familiar that I'd missed. An all-engulfing rage.

"Daryl… You know it ain't like that."

"But it is. I'm goin' after her." I state, already making my move back for the other end of the prison.

"No, Daryl!" He says firmly, grabbing roughly onto my arm.

I whirl on him, swinging my fist to hit him firmly in the jaw. His head snaps back and he hits the floor. I shake out my hand, the pull and tug of bruising knuckles a familiar, and frankly, a missed sensation.

Before I can truly here the sounds of him standing or yelling at me to get back to him, I swing my crossbow up on my arm and walk out of the cell block, setting out to gather supplies I know I'll be needing.

I was going on a rescue mission.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! It means a lot! If you're interested in a multiple-fandom blog, and of course, it isn't too much trouble, follow me on Tumblr! .com_

I slam my cell door shut, cutting off all access to it and myself as I unearth the cloth rucksack I'd stowed away under my mattress months in advance. Back when things were looking bleak and I wanted a way out if I needed one.

I carefully but quickly sift through the small amount of supplies. On my own, this would keep me going for around a week. If I was out longer than that I could fend for myself. It wouldn't be hard, what with all the abandoned gas stations and such.

My eyes land on the small jacket Carol wore when the weather got cooler. Without thinking, I reach out to it, allowing my calloused fingers to brush the fleece material, the uneven, dry texture of my hands snagging occasionally on the warm fuzz. I grasp the fabric in my fist, lifting it to my nose and inhaling deeply. Just the presence of her smell was enough to make me weak in the knees. I shove the jacket into my bag, a heavy, yet hopeful sensation falling over my heart.

I had long since accepted that I was hopelessly in love with Carol Petelier. Her soft, feminine ways were never lost on me. The way she's grown as a person, from a woman who would cower whenever a threat came near, to the type of woman who would take out a few people just to save the ones she cared most about.

It didn't matter how she'd changed. The thought and heart was still there. Her intentions were still there, and goddammit, that was still Carol.

I jerk open the cell door, sliding it shut behind me with an extreme amount of certainty and force, almost relishing the sound as it bounced loudly off the concrete walls.

I have my hand on the handle to the exit when I hear footsteps approaching me from behind. I whirl quickly, expecting Rick, but instead find myself to the laugh-lined eyes of Hershel.

"Daryl." He greets, his voice solemn and blank.

"Hershel." I grunt in return, averting my gaze slightly from his wise, sad eyes.

"We got Rick in the infirmary. He told me what happened," he begins, his eyes never straying from my face.

"Yeah?" I question, leaning my back against the door and watching him almost expectantly. I'm ready to hear about how wrong I was. I'm ready to get this out of the way because all this talking was just prolonging me finding Carol.

"I just wanted to tell you… Rick dropped her off in the neighborhood just over from the city," He says, his voice soft and careful, "said she headed out east in that van… She had supplies. At least enough to keep her going on her own for a month. Just thought that'd help you out."

I stare at him a moment, the warmth of intense gratefulness filling me head to toe. I bow my head slightly, embarrassed I had expected so little help from him. "Thank you, Hershel."

"'Course. Just want y'all to come back safe and sound. Better get goin'." He says, reaching around me to push the door open and offers me a smile. "Good luck, Daryl."

I navigate my bike between broken down cars and snapping walkers. The sun had just begun its slow descent under the horizon, and the walkers weren't waiting for night to fall before they tried to snag a meal. I glance around the rows of abandoned buildings, trying to figure out if it would be safer to stop in this ghost town or keep going. The place was crawling with the undead.

The first place I had thought to stop was the original neighborhood that Hershel said Rick left her in. After several hours of driving neighborhood to neighborhood, I realized just how hard the job I'd enlisted myself for really was. I'd drifted dangerously close to the city. Here, the buildings stood high and they were plentiful. It was no Atlanta, but it was close enough to make me uneasy.

I cut the engine and slide off the seat, grabbing my crossbow and rucksack and running for the nearest building. A walker grabs my jacket and rips it off my person as it falls to the ground, expecting flesh to be in its hands, but only finding cloth. I nearly topple over at the sudden weight, but quickly regain my footing so I can dig my heel into its decaying skull. The smell and sound of that is one I've never truly gotten used to, but I don't have a moment to spare for disgust.

I jerk my booted foot from the gore and turn, digging my knife into the skull of a walker that had somehow crept up behind me. My gaze quickly dances over the area, until I see a general store that's within close proximity. I spin away from yet another nearby walker and take off at a sprint, leaping up to grab the pull-down ladder that leads to the roof. I quickly pull myself up the rusted metal rungs, then pull the ladder back up, securing myself on the roof. I do a quick look around the roof, grateful to see it's empty.

I move to the edge and peer into the streets, surprised at the amount of walkers that had taken over. From my vantage point, I could see nearly four streets over, and every street was packed with the rotting monsters. My expert eyes scan, looking for any sign of Carol or the van she'd been sent with.

I watch the city's activity until I can't see anymore and my eyelids are threatening to droop. I dig my palms into my eyes and let out a yawn.

With where I was, I felt safe enough to risk a few hours of sleep. I lay back, crossbow on my chest; head propped up by my bag and promptly begin to doze under the twinkling lights of the stars. My muscles had all set to relaxing, my mind lingering on particular subjects, Carol being one of them, and my heartbeat had slowed to a steady pace.

_Things might actually go well for once. _I remember thinking just before the first bullet skimmed my forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

The impact wasn't great, and the bullet just barely grazed my skin, but the shock sent me reeling.

My head slaps back against the concrete and I, Exorcism-style, scurry backwards, abandoning my crossbow a few paces back.

Another bullet pierces my arm, and I let out a sharp cry of frustration and pain as my blood drips onto the concrete.

"Stop! Quit shooting!" Given the amount and proximity of the walkers, you'd figure the person would think twice about shouting, but given the bullets they had to spare on one man they thought was a walker, they might just be packing enough to take out anything that came their way.

I've rose to a crouch, the shallow wound on my head dripping blood into my eyes, furthering the blur that has taken up residence in my eyes. My head is aching, my arm burning. I just want to go back to sleep.

Just as I've gotten my crossbow back in my hands, the top of a female's head pops up from the ladder I pulled myself up just a few hours ago.

I raise it, a low groan of pain sounding in the back of my throat.

"Put your fucking weapon down." Her voice is authoritative and sharp as she pulls herself fully onto the roof. She has a pistol aimed at my forehead.

"You first." I nearly pant, my voice weak. She smirks slightly as she holsters her gun. I drop my crossbow eagerly. My arm had begun screaming in protest to the action of lifting.

She crosses to me, her harsh tone has dropped from her voice, and her thin body that's sheathed all in black has taken up an almost nervous way of standing. She drops to her knees next to me, pressing her soft fingers to my forehead.

I all but shove her away and I jerk back, falling from my crouch onto my ass.

"Don't touch me." I warn, my tone weary but strong. She's looking at me like I've slapped her.

I push back any feelings of regret with a grimace in her direction.

"I'm sorry you got hurt. We thought you were one of them… The dead—a, a creeper." She stutters. She can't be much older than Beth.

"Yeah well. I'm not." I slur. I know I'm on the verge of passing out. It's nearly inevitable. The pain is becoming unbearable.

"What's your name?" She asks. I stare at her like she's grown another arm.

"What's yours?" I shoot back. I am the one, after all, who should be weary. Not her.

"Hannah. Now you." She shoots back.

"Daryl." I grunt, watching my vision darken and fuzz.

"Well, Daryl, it's lovely to meet you. Someone new who doesn't want to eat me…" Her voice trails off as my consciousness slips. The dark and quiet are well welcomed by me.

Anything to not have to listen to that dumb bitch talk and question me.

_AN: _**_My apologies for such a short update. It's nearing the holidays and things are slightly hectic. Though, I am out of school now! I promise an update by 11/29/13. You have my word. Thank you so much for reviewing, favoriting and following! It means the world to me! Mwah! _**


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